


catch a fire in our hearts

by Springsteen



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-08
Updated: 2019-01-08
Packaged: 2019-10-06 22:14:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17353601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Springsteen/pseuds/Springsteen
Summary: Tyson’s had a crush on JT basically since they met. JT’s smile is electric, and he’s funny and sweet even though he pretends not to be, and he’s so damn good at hockey it takes Tyson’s breath away. All this time Tyson has been hiding his crush, shoving all his feelings for JT down in a tiny corner of his heart. But he didn’t imagine the way JT was looking at him just now - like JT wants Tyson as much as Tyson wants JT. He's starting to think Christmas miracles don't only happen in the movies.





	catch a fire in our hearts

**Author's Note:**

> [walks into starbucks 3 weeks after christmas] hey can i get a peppermint mocha? no? well. here's 7k of holiday-ish fluff for your sugar fix. many thanks to [aj](https://nhlbarrie.tumblr.com/) for beta reading & cheerleading. title is from jd mcpherson's "[twinkle](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hTTKis3IJ-s)", which is really a great christmas song.

Living with three people in one house can range from eerily quiet to extremely loud chaos depending on the day. It’s the kind of thing people watch sitcoms about, and that’s usually just three more or less normal people with kind of weird lives and funny jokes. Tyson lives with two of his teammates. All three of them are barely adults, really, but no one’s set the fire alarm off in months, and he and JT haven’t tried to wear the same shirt to a game since last week. He’s mostly gotten used to the weirdness. 

It’s not completely normal for him to wake up in the middle of the night and hear JT singing softly downstairs, but it’s not the weirdest thing that’s happened since they’ve all moved in together, either. He rolls over and tries to go back to sleep, but now it’s almost impossible for him to ignore JT singing “Take Me Home, Country Roads” for no reason he can think of. He picks up his phone, the screen painfully bright in his dark room. It’s 1:27 in the morning. 

Groaning, he drops his phone on the bed. He’s pretty sure he smells something maybe burning in the kitchen. JT is a grown adult. He went to college long enough to have learned something. He should be able to handle whatever the fuck he’s doing right now, but he also just got over a head injury. Not that Tyson thinks a concussion would fully explain any of this. 

He sighs and gets out of bed. Before he goes downstairs, he grabs a sweatshirt off the floor and pulls it over his head. JT is still singing, the same two lines over and over. 

“Why are you singing John Denver?” Tyson asks, rubbing his hand over his eyes. He’s mostly sure he’s awake now. 

“What?” JT turns around. There’s definitely something smoking in a pan on the stove. “Oh. I heard it on a commercial or something. Did I wake you up?” Tyson shrugs. He doesn’t really mind. “Want a grilled cheese?”

Tyson looks over JT’s shoulder, where he can now see he’s frying a grilled cheese sandwich. The cheese is oozing out between the bread slices and burning where it’s touching the pan. “Comphy, it’s like 2 in the morning.”

JT shrugs. “So it’s a late midnight snack. Do you want one or not?”

There’s a knife and plate next to the stove, bread and butter and cheese scattered across the counter. It’s not like JT already put everything away, so really, he might as well. JT flips the sandwich onto a plate.

“What kind of cheese is that?” Tyson asks. 

JT sets down his plate and reaches for the bread. “Pretty sure it’s cheddar.”

“Okay,” Tyson says. He gets a second plate out of the cabinet and waits while JT makes the second sandwich, spreading butter on one side of the bread and dropping it in the pan with a sizzle. 

“I accidentally napped for like six hours this afternoon,” JT says. “Woke up around 8 so now I can’t sleep.”

“Good thing we don’t have practice ‘til later tomorrow,” Tyson says. Practice won’t be easy tomorrow, and they have conditioning and tape review before they go to St. Louis, but that’s later in the day. JT has plenty of time for another long nap. 

“Yeah,” JT says, plating Tyson's grilled cheese and handing it over. “Fall asleep on the ice, what’s the worst that can happen?”

“Well it’s not like your face can look any worse,” Tyson says. 

One of these days he’s sure JT is gonna figure him out. He’ll realize Tyson actually really, _really_ likes JT’s face (he knows Kerf knows how he feels, and probably half the team does, too - the way he looks at JT isn’t even a little bit subtle) and then Tyson will be fucked. Their friendship could survive a lot of things, but Tyson’s enormous crush isn’t one of them. That kind of thing might work out in movies, but it would just make life more painfully awkward than Tyson can successfully laugh off. 

“Asshole,” JT says, derailing Tyson’s sad train of thought. He takes a bite of his grilled cheese, making a face at Tyson that’s probably supposed to be goofy but Tyson still thinks is cute. A string of cheese hangs from his lips. JT licks it away, and Tyson realizes he’s been staring.

“Want to watch Netflix or something?” he asks, needing some kind of distraction. 

“Sure,” JT agrees. They end up on the couch, watching old episodes of Bob’s Burgers they’ve both seen before and eating their sandwiches. It’s not the greatest grilled cheese Tyson has ever eaten, but it’s a pretty good midnight snack. Plus, JT made it without burning anything or obsessively reading the recipe on his phone. Tyson’s a little impressed.

He isn’t sure who starts it, but they slowly move towards each other until Tyson is leaning against JT’s shoulder, JT’s arm draped across the back of the couch. A few minutes later JT starts absentmindedly running his fingers through Tyson’s hair, and after that it’s physically impossible for Tyson to keep his eyes open. This is his kryptonite, whether JT knows it or not. If Tyson wasn’t basically in love with him before, JT playing with his hair has him planning a proposal. A summer wedding sounds pretty nice.

The house is quiet, the only light in the room coming from the tv screen. It’s the middle of the night; he should be asleep. Maybe he shouldn’t be falling asleep curled into JT’s side, but he’s still dragging his fingers through Tyson’s hair, his nails gently scratching his scalp. Tyson is absolutely not moving, even though there’s no way he can stay awake. He’s asleep before the next episode starts. 

/ / 

Tyson wakes up the next morning to Kerf laughing at them. “Sleep well?” he asks from the kitchen, throwing things into the blender.

“Shut up,” Tyson says. All of him aches. He fell asleep slumped into JT’s side, but JT must have laid down at some point, so now Tyson’s head is on JT’s stomach, his feet still on the floor. JT’s arms are around his shoulders. Tyson doesn’t know how he didn’t wake up earlier because of the awful crick in his neck. He sits up slowly and stretches carefully, ignoring the look Kerf gives him as he starts the blender. JT wakes with a start, kneeing Tyson sharply in the side.

“The fuck? What’s happening?” JT blinks up at him. His hair is a mess and there’s uneven gingery stubble on his jaw, but Tyson still wants to make out with him a little. Maybe a lot. His brain kind of feels like the noise the blender is still making.

“Kerf’s making us breakfast,” Tyson says. 

“No I’m not,” Kerf says, laughing. He shakes his smoothie into a glass. It’s upsettingly green. “By the way, we gotta leave in like half an hour.” JT groans and flops back onto the couch, which is pretty much how Tyson feels about this whole day already. 

After practice that morning, there are a couple journalists in the locker room looking to interview Nate and Gabe and Mikko - everybody wants to talk to the top line right now, which is a pretty great feeling for the whole team. They clear out pretty fast, most of the players leaving quick after that. Tyson takes his time changing out of his gear, and when he looks up Emily from PR is smiling at him. He kind of feels like he walked into a trap somehow.

“Hey, Tyson,” she says. “How do you feel about filming a little holiday video?”

Tyson looks around the room. Almost everyone is gone now. Across the room, Soda is tying his shoes and talking to Nieto. JT’s the only other guy left, and he’s taking almost as long as Tyson to change. “Me?” Tyson asks finally.

Emily is still smiling. Tyson would never admit she scares him, but she kinda does. Like, in a nice way. “I took a little poll. The guys voted you most likely to sing Christmas carols for a video,” she says. Tyson is no longer surprised EJ and Gabe practically ran out of here; he would bet they suggested this. 

“Totally relaxed, nothing formal,” she says. “Just a fun little video for the fans we’ll post next week.”

“Yeah, okay,” Tyson says. It’s better than all the mouthguard challenges, at least. “Now?”

“Whenever you’re ready,” Emily says.

Tyson’s gear is still all over the place, he’s in his under armour and his hair is still sweaty from practice. Then again, he’d rather just get this over with. “Now is fine,” he says, sitting up on the bench. 

Emily starts recording with her phone, and she starts off easy, having Tyson name as many Christmas songs as he can in fifteen seconds. He does pretty good at that, he thinks, but then she asks him to sing and Tyson realizes pretty quickly he only knows the first few words to a lot of songs when he’s not singing along to the radio.

“Hey,” JT says. He’s been watching the whole thing from just out of the camera frame, keeping his laughter quiet but not keeping the big smile off his face. “Do Justin Bieber songs count?” 

“Sure,” Emily says. “As long as they’re about Christmas.”

“Don’t say I never did anything for you,” JT says, grinning smugly. Tyson is never, ever living down the karaoke video from last year, or the time he got drunk in Florida after a win and started singing “Baby” to the whole bar.

JT takes the camera, Emily cues up “Mistletoe” on her phone, and Tyson still doesn’t know more than the first line. He doesn’t know what’s more embarrassing, voluntarily singing Justin Bieber Christmas songs or realizing halfway through he doesn’t know any of the lyrics. 

“That’s it, I’m not singing anymore,” Tyson says, standing up. He tries to put the rest of his gear away as JT follows him around the locker room - if there’s anything more menacing than JT on the ice, it’s JT with a camera and blanket permission from the media team to film whatever he wants. Tyson doesn’t think too hard about the fact that usually what JT wants to film is Tyson. 

“Josty, what’s wrong, man?” JT grins at him, his gaze flicking back and forth from Tyson to the phone as he’s recording.

Tyson shakes his head and tries to ignore JT, which is basically impossible for him. He can feel JT watching him, long after Emily takes the phone back, stops recording and thanks Tyson for taking the time to film with them. 

He finally gets the chance to shower, and the whole time he keeps thinking about the way JT was watching him earlier, the sweet little smile on his face. The only word Tyson can think of is _fond_ , which… Tyson knows how he feels about JT, and it goes way beyond fond. At first he tried to convince himself it was just a really intense friendship, but he’s never wanted to hook up with any of his friends all the time and then wake up next to them every day until they’re both too old to even coach hockey, when then they can retire to a nice lake house up in Canada somewhere with a couple cats and a dog and grandkids that come visit. It’s too much to hope that JT feels the same way. He’s sure if he asked JT, he’d say they’re just bros, that he never considered the possibility of being more, let alone spending the rest of their lives together. Tyson shuts off the water and shakes himself out of his hopeless daydreaming.

“Don’t worry, I’m not gonna sing ‘Mistletoe’ again,” Tyson says once he gets back to his locker, one towel around his waist and one slung over his shoulder. 

JT looks up at Tyson for a couple seconds, long enough that Tyson wonders if he still has shampoo in his hair or something. JT must realize he’s staring. He looks down at Tyson’s bare chest, then his eyes snap up to watch Tyson towel off his shampoo-free curls before he finally looks away. Beneath his beard, his cheeks are pink.

“It’s not, like, the worst Christmas song in the world,” JT mumbles eventually.

“I like that song,” Tyson says, because he knows that’s what JT is expecting him to say. 

“Yeah, well, you kinda have terrible music taste,” JT says. Tyson doesn’t bother defending himself; they have this argument all the time.

He turns away to get dressed, replaying the last thirty seconds over in his mind. He’s had a crush on JT basically since they met. JT’s smile is electric, and he’s funny and sweet even though he pretends not to be, and he’s so damn good at hockey it takes Tyson’s breath away. All this time Tyson has been hiding his crush, shoving all his feelings for JT down in a tiny corner of his heart. But he didn’t imagine the way JT was looking at him just now - like JT wants Tyson as much as Tyson wants JT. 

“Let’s go, I’m starving,” Tyson says once he’s dressed.

“You’re starting to sound like Big Tys,” JT says.

“Don’t tell him that,” Tyson says as they walk out of the practice facility. It’s cold outside and cloudy enough that it might snow later. “He’ll try to take credit for everything I do.”

“Duh,” JT says. “Chipotle?”

“Duh,” Tyson shoots back. 

JT grins at him, bright and familiar and perfect. Tyson’s heart stutters in his chest: _maybe, maybe, maybe_. 

/ /

The game against the Blues is all over the place. Ghetto gets them on the board pretty early, off a nice pass from JT. Then Schenn just knocks him down off the faceoff, because everyone on the Blues is a giant asshole, and the refs pull them apart before either of them can get in more than a couple punches. JT loses his helmet on the ice and Tyson grabs it, bringing his gear over before they close the door to the penalty box. 

Playing in any game fills him with adrenaline, his whole body burning with it, but watching JT get in fights is a whole other level. Tyson feels like he’s holding a live wire. His blood is buzzing, the noise of the arena echoing in his ears. He wants to tear this place down, wants to take on the world with JT and the team at his side. For now he’ll do everything he can to tear the Blues apart. 

They’re tied at 2 at the end of the first, then the second period ticks by in a scoreless drag. Parayko scores in the third and puts them down one, but JT gets a goal on the power play, a nice rebound that comes straight to where he was waiting in the slot. They got some really good chances as the third goes on but the game pushes into OT. The whole team is exhausted at that point, but that still shouldn’t be an excuse for the turnover that cost them the game. 

Even though they lost, even though Tyson didn’t even get a point, it’s impossible for him to ignore how well JT has been playing. He’s been on fire since he came back from his injury. If he told him that, JT would probably take it as a joke about his hair - which is fair, but not the point. JT’s hockey is super hot right now. Tyson knows he needs to focus on his own playing, but as he gets on the plane later that evening, he just keeps picturing JT red faced and panting in the box after that fight. 

”Gordie Howe, eh?” Tyson says, dropping into the aisle seat next to JT. He elbows him. “That’s hot.”

“Thanks,” JT says, looking through his bag for his headphones. “Still lost, though.”

“You played good though,” Tyson points out.

JT looks up from his bag. “Thanks,” he says again, slowly this time. They’re a team, obviously Tyson pays attention to the way his teammates play and knows when they’ve had a good or bad game. A smile spreads across his face, like he’s surprised Tyson noticed. Ridiculous. Tyson would have to be blind _not_ to notice. JT has to know that.

Mikko drops into the seat behind them, carrying on a conversation with Nate who’s still up at the front of the plane. Whatever moment he and JT were having is over. Tyson is exhausted from the game, and they’re barely off the ground before he falls asleep. 

“Josty. Hey, man, time to wake up.” Tyson blinks sleepily, frowning at JT’s face a few inches away. It takes him a slow few seconds to remember what’s going on. They must have just landed in Denver; it’s gotta be the middle of the night, the rest of the team grabbing their stuff and getting off the plane.

JT smiles at him. “There he is,” he says. “You were really out. Come on, let’s go home.” JT puts his hand on Tyson’s back as he gets up, gently guiding him off the plane and back to their car. Tyson wonders if he’s still asleep. If he was he doesn’t think he would feel the sting of the cold December wind as they cross the parking lot.

Tyson climbs into the backseat. “Kerfy, it’s your turn to drive home,” he says. They don’t live that far from the rink, but it’s still far enough that Tyson really doesn’t want to drive. 

“Fine,” Kerf says. He gets in the driver’s seat and starts the car, poking the radio until he finds a station playing “Jingle Bell Rock.” He turns the volume up. “Gotta keep myself awake somehow,” he says. 

The whole way back, Tyson drifts in and out of sleep. He closes his eyes but the orange glow of the streetlights keeps him from really passing out. He catches bits and pieces of Kerf and JT’s conversation in the front seat, interrupted by the radio. 

“I told you, I’m not picking sides,” Kerf says over a commercial. JT’s reply is short but too quiet for Tyson to hear. “No,” Kerf says. “But it’s Christmas. It’s stupidly easy to be sad around the holidays.” He glances over at JT. “Stupidly easy to be happy, too. You just have to decide.”

On the radio, “Wonderful Christmastime” starts playing. JT groans and changes the station; Tyson smiles and lets himself drift off again.

He must fall asleep again, because he wakes up in the garage. “I’m not carrying you in the house, man,” JT says, shaking his shoulder. “Kerf says you can’t sleep out here, it’s too cold.”

“Oh, well if Kerf says so,” Tyson mumbles, dragging himself out of the car. He follows JT around the house, feeling like he’s sleepwalking, until they get upstairs. JT stops and looks at Tyson, waiting for something.

“You lost, bud?” he asks, dropping his hockey bag in the corner of the room.

“Oh, this is your room,” Tyson says. There’s so much traveling in hockey, so many late-night flights, and even after a season and a half he still can barely function after those flights. He probably would’ve just crashed in JT’s bed if he hadn’t stopped him - and those are thoughts he needs to stop before he has time to think about how nice that would be. 

“My bad. Night, dude.” 

“Night,” JT says softly, watching Tyson wander down the hall to his own room. 

As tired as he is, Tyson doesn’t fall asleep right away. He wonders what JT would’ve done, if he did just crash in his bed. It wouldn’t have been a big deal, probably. Tyson could’ve just as easily followed Kerf through the house and fallen asleep in his bed. The thing is, if he sleep-walked right into Kerf’s bed it would be just bros. They would laugh about it in the morning and go on with their days. With Comphy, there’s no way he could pretend he doesn’t want to keep him in bed all day. He’s not a good enough actor to hide his feelings.

He finally falls asleep, hugging a pillow to his chest and thinking he could sleep right through Christmas and New Year’s if it would dull the burning intensity of everything he’s feeling tonight. 

/ /

If the game against the Blues was all over the place, it’s even worse when they play the Stars at home the next day. They’re up by three at the end of the first, even after they get two goals called off for interference. The Stars come up with two goals of their own early in the second, but Mikko scores his second of the game on the power play and they end the period with a two-goal lead.

“We’re gonna win this,” Nate says, calm and determined.

Gabe nods, sitting in his stall next to him and running a towel over his hair. “We just gotta keep pushing.” 

They do, for the first half of the third. Just as Tyson’s starting to think they have this one, Dallas scores two more in two minutes and they’re tied at four. 

“Fuck,” JT mutters. He’s sitting next to Tyson on the bench, glaring at the ice as Mikko, Nate and Gabe go out to take the face-off. “Fuck this fucking shit.” Tyson totally gets his frustration - they should still be up by two, should really have the game in the bag. He won’t let anybody take this away from them, especially not freaking Dallas.

“Hey,” Tyson says, bumping his stick against JT’s skate laces. “We’ve got this.”

And they do. Gabe gets a redirect off a great shot by EJ at the blue line, then Nate gets the empty netter to guarantee them the win. The team jumps over the boards after the final buzzer, alight with a win they’d been determined to claim right from the start. 

“Told you,” Tyson says, catching up with JT as they skate towards center ice. He smiles awkwardly around his mouthguard, but his smile still makes JT smile, too.

“Yeah, yeah,” he says, still smiling as they bump shoulders and tap helmets and congratulate their teammates on a hard-earned win.

After the game they end up at a new bar off Larimer that Tyson Barrie has been talking about all week. It’s trendier than some of their usual places, the people here more hipsters than sports fans. There are twinkle lights strung up all over the place and a Christmas tree crammed into a corner. One of the bartenders is wearing light-up reindeer antlers and, to Barrie’s delight, their drink of the month is eggnog. 

They take over a couple tables in the back, always the loudest group of guys in the place. Tyson ends up between Barrie, who’s drinking an alarming amount of eggnog, and EJ, who’s drinking his usual Bud Light. And as usual, Big Tys won’t leave him alone about it.

“I get that you like beer,” he says. He points at EJ’s bottle and narrowly misses knocking over Tyson’s drink. He picks it up and holds it safely out of Barrie’s way. “But I’m just saying, there are so many, like, Festivus beers or whatever out there.”

“Festivus beers,” Tyson repeats, laughing. “Pretty sure they call it Christmas ale.”

“What would you know about it, Junior,” Barrie says, waving his hand at Tyson’s face. “My point is, you can get in the holiday spirit and still drink beer.”

EJ shrugs. “I know what I like,” he says, chugging the rest of his beer. Barrie stares at him like he’s drinking piss rather than beer.

“What you like is having no taste or shame,” he says. “You’re worse than Junior here.”

“Oh come on,” Tyson says, trying to defend himself. JT sits down next to him and sets a couple glasses of beer on the table. “Comphy, back me up.”

“What?” JT asks, stretching his arm across the back of Tyson’s chair as he settles into his seat.

“Tyson Senior thinks I have terrible taste in everything.”

“And that you have no shame,” EJ adds helpfully. 

“Sorry, buddy, can’t help you there,” JT says, taking a sip of his beer. A bit of foam clings to his lips. Tyson knows he’s staring, watching JT lick it away, but he can’t help it. He slumps back in his chair and crosses his arms. He’s maybe pouting a little. JT pats his shoulder consolingly. “I think it’s a Tyson thing.”

“Comphy, what the fuck,” Barrie says, standing up. “I have _excellent_ taste. Now I’m gonna get another eggnog, and then I’m gonna convince that Scrooge behind the bar to play some good Christmas music.”

“Oh, this I gotta see,” EJ says, standing up and following Barrie over to the bar and leaving Tyson and JT alone. Nate and Mikko and Nemo are down at the other end of the table talking about some tv show, not paying them any attention. JT’s arm is still curled around Tyson’s shoulders, the twinkle lights glowing above them. Tyson takes a drink of one of the beers JT set down just to give himself something to do. It tastes faintly like cinnamon; it’s most definitely some kind of Christmas ale. He smiles. JT can say whatever he wants about not really caring that it’s the holidays, but Tyson can tell he’s just as sentimental as the rest of them. He’s pretty sure it’s something they scout for. 

“Thought you’d like that one,” JT says.

Tyson looks up at him. Sometimes he forgets how well they all know each other - Tyson knows exactly what to order from their favorite take-out place, what JT likes to listen to on the way home from practice, two years of likes and dislikes cataloged somewhere in his brain. It shouldn’t surprise him that JT would do the same thing, but it’s nice to see that JT cares about him.

“Yeah,” Tyson says, leaning closer to JT. The bar isn’t super noisy, but they’re sitting so close now Tyson’s lips nearly brush JT’s ear as he talks. “Hey, know what I want for Christmas?”

“A point streak?” JT suggests.

“Oh fuck you,” Tyson says, shoving his shoulder. JT leans back exaggeratedly, putting some space between them. He’s smiling so big his eyes are crinkled at the corners. It’s Tyson’s favorite smile of his. He licks his lips and almost tells JT exactly that when the unmistakable opening notes of Mariah Carey’s “All I Want For Christmas Is You” blares over the bar’s speakers. 

“Oh my God,” JT says, shaking his head. Tyson can already hear a bunch of their teammates singing along.

“That’s what I call the T-Beauty charm!” Barrie yells, raising his arms above his head as he shimmies back to the table. 

“You literally paid him to play this song,” EJ says, sitting down in an empty chair across the table and nearly upending the tray Nate’s carrying when he grabs his beer. “That was like a $40 tip for one already overpriced, disgusting drink.”

Big Tys shrugs. “I’ve spent more on worse decisions,” he says. He worms his way between JT and Tyson and starts singing with the loud enthusiasm of the spectacularly drunk. Across the table, Nate grins and pulls out his phone, clearly recording this. Barrie reaches out across the table and grabs Nate’s face, still singing along. This is probably what Emily was hoping for when she asked him to sing something for the team’s Instagram.

The song ends and another one starts right after it. Big Tys turns to him, grinning. “This one’s for you, Junior!” 

It takes him a couple seconds to recognize the song and when he does, JT’s already laughing. “Oh, come on,” Tyson says, loud enough that the whole table can hear him over Justin Bieber’s “Mistletoe.” Everybody laughs. Big Tys pats his cheeks maybe a little harder than he means to and goes around the table to sit next to Nate. 

JT slides his arm around Tyson’s shoulders again and pulls him against his side. He starts swaying to the music, bumping into Tyson until he sways along with him. It’s dumb for sure, but it’s nice, too, having JT’s arm around him, surrounded by his teammates. Nate is still recording, trying to catch Tyson and JT but also Big Tys and Willy purposely singing really badly. He wouldn’t be surprised if this ends up all over the internet. Sure it’s a little embarrassing, but it’s definitely not the worst thing he’s done with this team. It’s not even the most embarrassing thing he’s done this week.

/ /

The next morning, JT is sitting at the table, eating real breakfast like an adult: scrambled eggs and sausage and toast, an empty juice glass next to his plate. Tyson doesn’t even have the energy to microwave himself oatmeal right now. To say he’s not a morning person would be a bit of an understatement.

“Hey,” Tyson says as he shuffles through the kitchen. JT looks up from his phone and one side of his lips tilt up in a smile. 

Tyson grabs a mug of coffee and stands at the counter, drinking it and scrolling mechanically through emails. He almost misses one that looks like a store promo but is actually from the tailor the team recommends. “Oh, did you see this?” he asks JT, waving his phone around like JT could read it from the table. “Our suits are ready. You wanna go pick ‘em up after practice?”

JT shrugs. “Sure, okay.”

“Cool,” Tyson says. He opens the fridge and stares at the contents, wishing an omelette would magically show up on one of the shelves. Maybe some waffles, those sound good. “I need to get something for my sister, too. What should I get her?” 

JT doesn’t say anything. Tyson looks around the fridge door at him, waits until JT notices. “A laptop?” he suggests. “I don’t know, I only met your sister once.”

“I already got her a new laptop when I signed my contract.” There’s still no magic omelette in the fridge, but there is leftover pizza from a few days ago that’s probably still good. “She doesn’t need a new one, and besides, Christmas is about giving -”

“If you quote some stupid Christmas movie at me I swear to god I’ll-” 

“You’ll what, Joseph Taylor?” Tyson asks, taking a bite of the pizza. It’s a little rubbery from the fridge but it’s not awful. 

“I won’t go shopping with you,” JT said triumphantly. 

Tyson shrugs. “Then I’m not picking up your suit for you.”

“Yes you would, it would be so dumb not to,” JT says. Tyson stares him down, eating his cold pizza for breakfast, until JT stands up and brings his dishes over to the sink. “Come on, we both know you’re too nice to do that.”

“I can be mean,” Tyson says. “Your hair looks stupid today, jerkface.” JT stares at him, unimpressed - Tyson isn’t sure if it’s his weak chirps or the cold pizza he’s eating right out of the fridge. It isn’t true, obviously. JT’s hair looks the same as it always does, which isn’t stupid at all. 

“There’s only one Tyson with mean chirps on the team, and we both know it’s not you,” JT says. “And dude, that’s a good thing. Trust me.” 

They’re standing right next to each other, Tyson leaning back against the counter. JT brings his hand up and very slowly reaches out and swipes his thumb across Tyson’s cheek. Tyson doesn’t move; he feels like JT’s touch has turned him to glass and at any moment he could shatter in a thousand pieces. 

“You had, like, an eyelash or something,” JT says, a quiet explanation. He’s still standing close enough to touch, close enough that it feels like the whole world is just the two of them in the winter sunlight. It feels like any other morning, but for one wild second Tyson imagines kissing JT here in their kitchen. It’s too easy to picture, trading kisses over their morning coffee, because nothing else would really change. Nothing would change but everything would be different. 

JT leans his hand on the counter right next to Tyson’s hip. Tyson tilts his chin up and is about to grab JT and go for it when the garage door slams. Both of them jump away from each other, so by the time Kerf walks into the kitchen JT is intently washing dishes and Tyson is at the table picking through the fruit bowl.

“You guys are quiet,” Kerf says. “Alexa, play Christmas music.” Tyson barely hears JT groan before the little speaker in the corner starts playing “Winter Wonderland.” If it didn’t feel like a normal morning in the house before, it definitely does now.

/ /

After practice, they stop to pick up their new suits, which only takes about thirty seconds. JT insists on stopping for food before they go shopping, so it’s pretty late in the day by the time they get to the mall and the stores are packed.

“I still have no idea what to get for Kacey,” Tyson says, wandering aimlessly through a department store.

“Earrings?” JT suggests. “A sweater? Pajamas? A scarf? _This_ scarf.” JT holds up one of those dumb fuzzy hat-scarf things with panda bear ears and little paw prints on the mittens at the ends of the scarf.

Tyson raises his eyebrows. He’s pretty sure Kacey got one of those as a joke gift a few years ago. “Yeah, that would look great on you,” he says. JT makes a face, but doesn’t react fast enough to stop Tyson from trying to shove it on his head. Laughing too hard to watch what they’re doing, they stumble into a rack and send a bunch of scarves sliding to the floor. 

“Oh, shit,” JT mutters as Tyson scrambles to pick them all up again. JT helps him shove them sort of onto the rack again and both of them walk away, still laughing, before an employee can catch them and asks them to leave.

They wander around the mall a couple more times but Tyson still doesn’t have anything for his sister. JT complains about how long they've been wandering until they take a break to get Starbucks. 

“This whole shopping trip wasn’t some kind of ploy to take our picture with Santa, was it?” JT asks. Across from the food court is a giant line of parents and kids waiting to take photos with Santa, surrounded by presents and some exhausted-looking elves keeping the line moving.

“Yeah, you got me,” Tyson says. “Can’t believe it took you this long to figure it out.”

“I’m leaving without you.” JT walks away. Tyson stays where he is, waiting for JT to realize he can’t leave without the car keys that are in Tyson’s pocket. He waits for at least five minutes before he realizes JT actually isn’t coming back. Tyson wonders where the hell he went, looking around and almost instantly spotting JT on the other side of the Starbucks. When JT sees Tyson notice him, he looks down at his phone and pretends not to see him. Tyson rolls his eyes.

“Come on,” he says, leaning on the other side of the table JT’s sitting at. “I think I’ll just get her one of those sweaters from the first store.”

JT stares at him. “You couldn’t have decided that two hours ago?”

“No,” Tyson says. “I had to see if there was something better.”

JT sighs. “You’re lucky you’re cute,” he says. He very deliberately doesn’t look at Tyson as he gets up, hands in his pockets. Tyson bites his lip to keep himself from asking if JT meant cute as in funny, or if he meant cute like a puppy or cute like maybe he wanted to kiss him. 

The answer is definitely ‘none of the above’ when Tyson can’t remember where in the store he saw that sweater he thought Kacey would like. It definitely wasn’t in the men’s section, where they are now, where Tyson gets distracted by a nice display of ties. He and Kerf and JT did stupid joke gifts last year, but maybe this year they could actually get each other nice things. He picks up a striped tie, the slick fabric smooth between his fingers, and thinks it would look good on JT.

“You’re getting your sister a tie?” JT asks dubiously, looking over his shoulder.

“No,” Tyson says, turning around. He holds the tie up to JT’s chest. “You wear the same, like, two ties. I like this one, it would look -”

“If you say anything about my hair, I’m stealing the car keys and leaving you here, for real this time.”

“It would go with your new suit,” Tyson says. He was gonna say the tie would look nice with his eyes, but he’s glad JT cut him off before he could take it that far.

“Yeah,” JT says slowly. He takes the tie from Tyson, his thumb brushing Tyson’s hand as he does. “You should get one, too.” 

He grabs a tie from the display, seemingly at random, and holds it out to Tyson.

“Hey, matching,” Tyson says. 

“Um, no.” JT holds the ties up next to each other. “Not even close.”

“They’re both stripes,” Tyson points out.

“That doesn’t mean they’re matching,” JT says. “What, you want one with those swirly flower things on it?”

“What?”

“Never mind.” JT walks over to the closest register before Tyson even realizes where he’s going. “Go get your sister’s sweater so we can go home,” he says before Tyson can even offer to pay for his own tie. 

“I - okay,” Tyson says, walking away in a bit of a daze. Tyson ends up getting the softest sweater he can find. It kind of feels like a cloud, and it would almost be worth the chirps if he could find one in his size. He doesn’t take the time to look. 

“I am never going Christmas shopping with you again,” JT says when they meet up outside the store.

“Pretty sure you said that last year,” Tyson says.

“I mean it this time.” Tyson is pretty sure he doesn’t really mean it, but he doesn’t say anything. He’s willing to let JT win this one.

/ /

When he wakes up from his pre-game nap the next day, he decides he might as well wear his new suit tonight. He goes down to the kitchen feeling good - it’s a home game against the Islanders, not a date or anything, and they wear suits so often in the NHL he barely even thinks about it anymore, but tonight he’s got his new suit on and he thinks he looks pretty good.

JT is already in the kitchen when Tyson walks past, twisting something in his hands. “Hey,” he says. Tyson stops in the doorway. “Thought you might want to wear this, or whatever.”

He holds out the tie he picked out for Tyson yesterday, already knotted for him. 

“Oh, thanks, man,” Tyson says, unbuttoning his vest so he can swap ties. JT is wearing his new suit, too, and Tyson keeps getting distracted by how well it fits him and how nicely his pants cling to his thighs. Tyson pulls at his tie until it slides off, then takes the new tie from JT and pulls it over his head. 

JT reaches out and adjusts the knot for him, then smooths out his collar. His hands hover awkwardly between them, like he wants to keep touching him. Tyson really doesn’t think he’s reading this wrong. They’ve been dancing around something for weeks - months, honestly, and Tyson is sick of it. He grabs JT’s jacket and yanks him forward so abruptly JT nearly steps on his toes and catches himself on Tyson’s chest.

“Whoa, Josty -” Tyson kisses him before JT can come up with some dumb reason not to.

For one heart-stopping second Tyson thinks he was wrong, that JT’s gonna push him away, but then JT parts his lips and sinks both hands into Tyson’s hair and really kisses him back. Tyson hates that they didn’t do this sooner, that he’s already wasted so many months he could have spent kissing JT.

“Oh my god, finally,” Kerf says loudly, startling them both as he walking past the kitchen. “I was about to put up mistletoe in every doorway in this house, see if that would help you figure your shit out.” 

JT raises his eyebrows. He still has his arms around Tyson, slowly stroking his thumb down Tyson’s neck. It’s incredibly distracting. “That could’ve backfired pretty badly,” he says.

Kerf shrugs. “Would’ve been worth it, I was getting desperate,” he says. “You have no idea what living with you two is like. It’s like a goddamn Hallmark movie or something.”

“Okay, see you later, Kerf,” Tyson says loudly.

“Sure,” Kerf agrees. “Don’t be late.” As soon as Kerf walks away towards the garage, Tyson slides his hands down JT’s chest and hooks his fingers in his belt with a grin. JT tilts his chin up gently and kisses him breathless.

“Seriously! Don’t be late!” Kerf yells again from the garage. “Really happy for you guys, but we need you to play tonight!” The door slams, leaving the two of them alone.

“Oh, we’re gonna play tonight,” Tyson says, just loud enough for JT to hear. 

JT rolls his eyes. “You are so dumb,” he says.

“Yeah, but you like it,” Tyson says. He means for it to be annoying, but the look on JT’s face is so soft Tyson’s heart just, like, melts. He kisses JT again, grinding his hips against JT’s and making him gasp. JT turns away and glances at the clock on the stove. They really do need to get to the arena, but Tyson can’t help but sneak one more kiss.

“Wow, I can’t believe I just got everything I wanted for Christmas,” he says.

JT blinks at him. “I can’t believe I just kissed the lamest person in the world,” he says. He fixes Tyson’s tie and tugs on his vest. “You should button that up, you look like a slob.” 

“No I don’t,” Tyson says, doing up the buttons on his vest. “I look great, come on.”

“Yeah, I guess,” JT says, grabbing the car keys off the counter. “Come on, we’re gonna be late.” He bites his lip, looking down at the floor as he reaches out and takes Tyson’s hand. Tyson beams at him. He squeezes JT’s hand gently, and JT looks up at him and smiles back. Win or lose, Tyson will be smiling all night.

**Author's Note:**

> you're welcome for the cavities. come say hey on [tumblr](http://segwins.tumblr.com).


End file.
